


The gone days, the broken times

by Sofia_gothicquirks



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, and how he is so caring of his parents, he really is the caretaker of his family and that is so goddamn bittersweet, i love how gregor loves his sisters so much, i seriously love the campbells so much i think we do not stan those cinammon rolls enough, some angsty family time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 19:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofia_gothicquirks/pseuds/Sofia_gothicquirks
Summary: Of the days Gregor’s family had to manage without a father.
Relationships: Grace Campbell & Gregor Campbell, Gregor Campbell & Lizzie Campbell & Margaret "Boots" Campbell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The gone days, the broken times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oneunexpected](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneunexpected/gifts).



> A story gifted to Andie, cause they are the ones who inspired me to write Gregor fanfic :)) I read all their stories in a single afternoon and let me tell you THEY ARE AWESOME !!!! I am so glad I joined the fandom.

He woke up to the frisky cold air of his bedroom and the shy sunlight coming from his tiny window; an odd feeling that was, for Gregor usually opened up his snoozy eyes to see his parents' morning kisses gently placed on his forehead, loving words quickly whispered before rushing to their respective works, and a warm breakfast waiting in the kitchen. 

Something, someone, was indeed waiting in the kitchen, but there was no food on their family's table. 

His mother was still, sitting in one of their plastic chairs, one hand laying on the tummy where his unborn little sister was already causing havoc, and the other buried in her left cheek, her hair messy, her dark eyes looking tired and dull. 

Gregor was twice an older brother and he had seen his mother in a similar state a handful of times before. He guessed she had had a long night again, and in a way, he felt relieved. She would be back to her normal mom-attitude soon enough. Slowly, he turned back to his room and decided to prepare himself for school on his own, thinking his mom would prefer some quiet. 

But something remained odd. 

On the long, painful nights, his mother would always try her best to not wake up the kids. But Gregor could hardly sleep anyway with her moans, swearing, and incessant steps to the bathroom, where she inevitably ended up vomiting for half an hour. And Lizzie was no different; she was taking her newly-appointed older sister duties very seriously, and was both overexcited and overpannicked about anything related to the baby who was to be born so very soon. So she too denied rest, and went instead to Gregor’s bedroom, asking to be tucked with him in bed and rambling to sleep about everything she would teach her little sister. That always made Gregor chuckle, because at the tender age of four Lizzie was already very stressed, and he hoped having another kid to play with would help calm her down a little. 

But if he could allow himself to stay in bed those nights, imagining what life would be like once little Margaret was there, it was because he knew their father was only a few inches away from their mom, caring and helping her out with strong hands and reassuring smiles. 

Today, he noticed, his dad was not there.

Suddenly, something felt very wrong - the silence hanging on in the air, the unusual tension, the lack of _his_ presence - and Gregor did not dare to move any longer. The same stillness that seemed to have possessed his mom reached him, and he was unable to do anything until she spotted him. 

“Oh, hey baby,” she eventually said, her voice tired but steady.

It was like the tension broke out into a million flashes of light, all at once spreading across the small kitchen. Each flash was a question urging to be answered, a worry he could not get off his mind, a pulsion of fear he could not get rid of. 

“Hi mom,” he said, because he could say nothing more. 

She smiled, a little weary, and Gregor’s world stood on the verge of crumbling. His mother was strong. A wild force of nature one could not start to fight without fear. She had a spicy tongue, endless energy, and a way to keep going no matter what worry hit them; the never-ending bills, the increasing number of cockroaches invading their small apartment, the long hours at work, the noisy neighbours, their sick grandma. 

The woman in front of him looked very tiny, and very frail, and Gregor felt very scared. 

He tried a smile too. “So… hmm... what’s for breakfast?”

And then he immediately felt like a jerk, because his mother obviously had better things to worry about than his stomach. And right now, it seemed like he had more urgent things to think about as well. But he just could not bring himself to ask about those. If you didn’t ask, they couldn’t be real. Could they?

“It’s way past lunch time sweetie,” she said, slow and calm, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I am sorry I did not wake you up before but since it’s sunday I thought a little sleep wouldn’t hurt you.” 

Gregor noticed two lies then. It was not sunday. Even if it was, his mom would _always_ wake him in the morning so the family could take breakfast together, week-end or not. And it simply was unreal she hadn’t called him for lunch. 

The tension was back again, this time between the two of them. He thought they made quite the miserable picture, his pregnant exhausted mother and his worried eight year old self. He gave a quick look to the broken kitchen’s clock, an ugly thing they had had in there ever since he could remember : his mum had not lied about it, they were in the beginning of the afternoon. 

Three in the afternoon...on a monday...he really had slept a lot...he was supposed to be having maths classes at that hour, wasn’t he? And just after he would be picking up Lizzie from her kindergarten. His mom would be working in her dentist place as a receptionist, his dad at the university, and Gregor should be coming back home, hurrying to play with his sister a little before rushing his homework to come watch over his grandma. 

It was three in the afternoon, unto a cold New York monday, and Gregor and his family were not where they should be, not in any normal circumstances. 

He knew then, those were absolutely not normal circumstances.

His mother twitched in her chair, uncomfortable and thoughtful. Her lips moved, and he thought she was about to say something but could not. Gregor wanted to say a lot of things too, but the broken routine made him feel out of place, a stranger in his home. He felt dizzy, overwhelmed, and wondered if this was how Lizzie felt every time something troubled her. 

Out of instinct he ran back to his mother, momentarily forgetting about the rest. It made him feel younger, more fragile and vulnerable, but safer too. He was careful not to hurt her, remembering little Margaret still unborn, restlessly waiting to come out. But he tightened his hand in his mom’s, curling his fingers in her much larger and softer ones. 

She lifted him in her lap, stroking his black curls in a soothing gesture like she did when he was little and afraid. Like he was right now.

“Look Gregor…” she said. “A lot of things are going to change.”

Gregor had no idea what those things were. “It’s fine,” he whispered back.

They stayed like that for a long moment, and he told himself things had not changed that much. His mom had been having some rough times those last months with the pregnancy, the bills and all. Maybe she really was just tired, and his dad had gone to call for a doctor. But it did not explain why they had not sent Lizzie and him to school. It did not explain the tension, this feeling of missing something, someone.

Still, he stayed quiet. She would surely tell him what he was missing if he waited a little. He noticed, with a certain surprise, the little photo lying on the brick of the kitchen table. The one of his parents' marriage; his mother smiling in her pretty dress, true and soft, and his dad hugging her from behind, a playful grin enlightening his dark eyes.

Eventually, his mother released him from her lap and kneeled down, putting both hands on his shoulders as if to scold him, or to tell him something really important. Again, she opened her mouth, and no sound came out. 

“Mom you can tell me anything, alright?” he said. “I’m older now.”

“Ohhh baby,” she said, and started to cry, first quietly, then in muffled sobs. It was the single most terrible sight of his life, but one that gave him the courage, the desperation, to ask what he had previously dread. “Where’s dad?”

She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. “He left yesterday in the middle of the night. I thought he had just gone for a walk because he doesn’t sleep a lot right now with everything going on at work, you know that. But he was not back this morning. Not for lunch. Not at the university. I...I don’t know where he can be.”

“Oh,” Gregor said, startled at his own apathy. “Well, you can just call him. We’re his family, he’ll come home.”

That’s how things worked in a home, he knew that. In loving ones at least. And if Gregor had always been sure of anything it was that _both_ his parents loved him, and Lizzie and would love Margaret a whole lot too.

His mom’s hand came to lay on his cheek, “I did baby, every hour. I did. But he never answered.”

She hugged him tightly then, and he let the embrace sink in as the news began to hit him. His father had left. But he left every morning for work, didn’t he? Nothing abnormal there. And his insomnias were not an uncommon thing either. His father had left but, again, nothing said it was for forever. His father had left, but Lizzie’s fifth birthday was coming up in a few weeks; maybe he had wanted to surprise them all, had just gone get her a gift and someone had stolen his phone along the way or something. Maybe he had...maybe he had been hit by a car? Those things happened everyday. And what if he was in the hospital waiting for them, for his family, to come back to him?

What if he was … He strictly refused to finish the sentence, let alone utter it out loud. Yet his brain still registered the possibility, the root of the thought already too implemented in his mind. More scenarios, including aliens abductions and such, rushed over him, but suddenly death appeared as the most obnoxiously logical possibility. The only one that would explain why he was not here, not right now, maybe not ever.

“Did he die?” he asked, feeling as stiff and empty as stone. 

“I don’t think so, baby. We’ll just call the police if he does not come back in a few hours,” his mother whispered to his ear, and she seemed to have some control over her voice again when he nodded. “Gregor I need you to hang on for a little while, right? Mom will handle this.”

“I can help too,” he said as he felt the tears beginning to fall from the corners of his eyes. “I can help dad and you.”

“You can,” she said. “We can wait for him. And while dad is gone you can help me take care of Lizzie and grandma.”

“And Margaret?”

“And Margaret too,” she agreed with a little smile as she lifted up his chin with a gentle hand. “You help me take care of the family and you stay the good boy you are, always. You can do this for me?”

Gregor’s throat ached, asking to be liberated of its muted screams and sobs. He had no such time to wonder how much longer he would be able to repress the pain shaking inside him. Very soon, his eyes burned, everything blurred and the world crumbled as he held tight unto his mother's shirt, his face buried in her chest. “I can,” he heard himself moan in between a cry.

He understood then, that things had changed a lot and were about to change even more.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two coming up soon! That one will be more Lizzie centered. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, kudos and comments are appreciated :)


End file.
